


Learning Experiences

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written as a gift for marguerite_26, while chapter 2 was written for cinnatart. I do have plans for something longer in this universe at some point, but for now, they're just loosely connected PWPs haha.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Learning Experiences

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift for marguerite_26, while chapter 2 was written for cinnatart. I do have plans for something longer in this universe at some point, but for now, they're just loosely connected PWPs haha.

Merlin Emrys is a geek, and he's a bit of a weirdo to boot. He spends most of his free time reading sci-fi books in a corner of the library, barely ever setting foot in the sixth form common room. He wears his tie in the prescribed skinny knot, unlike the wide, self-consciously cool way Arthur and his friends favour, and his blazer is obviously old, but far more attentively pressed than Arthur's. He hardly ever does sports because of asthma or webbed feet or some fucking thing. When they were younger, instead of woodwork or metalwork with the blokes, he did textiles (or _sewing_ as it's more accurately called) with the girls. His favourite subject is fucking _Latin_. He trips over his own feet, volunteers to tutor the first years and is just generally painfully, painfully uncool.

And yet. And yet.

He's funny, and has a quiet, wicked sort of intelligence that means he sometimes looks at people from eyes gone narrow and amused, as if there's some private joke no one else gets. He stands up to people, even people like Arthur who are about twice his size. When Merlin cares about someone, he cares about them just as fiercely as Arthur does. He's got legs that go on forever, and who cares if they're uncoordinated, they're slim and lithe and Arthur finds himself watching, especially in science classes, the way Merlin will hook one foot around the leg of his stool, the other swinging idly. And there's always been something off about him, like maybe he has a secret. Arthur likes secrets.

And of course, since this... _thing_...well, now Arthur knows Merlin's got a wicked streak a mile wide, the kind that makes him able to catch Arthur's eye across a crowded class room or corridor, and give him a look that's nothing short of obscene (Arthur's pulse starts racing in an instant, his throat goes dry and of course, the next second, Merlin looks all wide-eyed and angelic), or to send him filthy text messages during assembly, or press Arthur against the door of his car for a hot, hungry kiss even though it's still light and they're parked up just around the corner from Arthur's house. All while maintaining this faintly distracted air of amiability.

Arthur thinks his mates would have more of a problem with _Merlin_ than with the idea of blokes in general. He's just so...he's not one of them. Not part of the crowd. Doesn't even want to be. But Arthur can't help coming back for more, every time, all the time. So in his free period on Wednesday afternoon, Arthur tracks Merlin down to his usual corner of the library and finds him with his nose in a book and his feet propped on the chair opposite him. Arthur grabs the chair and tips it back, making Merlin's feet fall to the floor. He flails amusingly for a moment, then glares up at Arthur.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, because God forbid Merlin would shout in the library even if he wants to. Arthur thinks that might be more out of fear of Monmouth the librarian than any great respect for the 'SILENCE' signs strewn around the place.

"Hi," is all Arthur says, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table. He lets his hand fall on top of Merlin's and it could be an accident. It's not though, and from the way Merlin's lips curl into a smile, he knows it.

"I'm busy," Merlin says and Arthur sighs, lifting his hand to ruffle Merlin's hair, ignoring the way Merlin ducks and bats at his hand.

"The hobbits can wait for half an hour, surely?"

Merlin's lips thin and he looks down at his book. "It's not about _hobbits_."

Arthur lets his hand slide down to Merlin's neck, thumb briefly tracing the arc of his cheekbone.

"Arthur," Merlin mutters, like he always does, like Arthur is slightly infuriating, something Merlin puts up with out of the goodness of his heart.

"Come on," Arthur cajoles. "S'what free periods were made for."

"It's really not," Merlin argues, but he reaches for Arthur anyway, his palm flat against Arthur's ribs, warm through the cotton of his shirt. After a brief second, Merlin sighs and closes his book and says, "Come on, then. Let's get out of here."

Arthur gives him a look and says, "Really? Isn't making out in the library every geek's wet dream?"

Merlin jabs his finger into Arthur's thigh. "Not going to provide you with an excuse to leave me high and dry again."

Arthur laughs, trying to disguise the fact that he's suddenly breathless, and hops down from the table. It takes all the patience he has not to grab Merlin's elbow and steer him out of the library. Arthur realises he has no idea where they're going until Merlin ducks into the loos, shooting a coy look over his shoulder at Arthur.

Merlin's already in a stall, leaning casually against the wall by the time Arthur has thoroughly checked there's no one else there, and he cocks an eyebrow in amusement at Arthur's paranoia. As soon as the cubicle door is shut and locked behind Arthur, Merlin's kissing him, slender fingers curling into Arthur's hair, the kiss lewd and wet straight away, and God, fuck, it's so easy to crowd Merlin up against the wall, pin him there with just his hips and kiss him senseless.

Arthur's never been much into kissing before, seems like a bit of a waste of energy when there's so many more interesting things to be doing, but God, he could kiss Merlin for _hours_ , until his full, pink lips are puffy and stained dark with bites. But Merlin's hands are already tugging Arthur's shirt out of his belt, fingers pressing against warm skin. He might want to spend forever on that lush mouth, but Merlin's hands are always distracting, and anyway Arthur's got to be in Business Studies in half an hour. Arthur works his knee between Merlin's thighs, lifts until he's pressed right against Merlin's hardening cock, and Merlin is on his tiptoes, head falling back against the wall.

Merlin lifts one hand to tangle in Arthur's hair, tugging him in for another kiss before short nails rake down the nape of his neck. Arthur hisses a complaint, but it's no good, Merlin knows he loves that. He does it again and Arthur shifts, mouthing along his jaw to catch Merlin's earlobe in his teeth.

"Oh, you bastard," Merlin hisses. Arthur smirks and kisses Merlin once more, one hand going down to curl around his hip, pressing his thumb hard to the bone and relishing in the little cry he gets in response before Merlin bites his lips and scrunches his eyes closed. Merlin lurches forward and Arthur trips over his own feet. They collide with the opposite wall of the cubicle with a thud and it's Arthur's turn to choke back a groan when Merlin's palm presses flat against the front of his trousers. His hand feels hot and solid and Arthur rocks into it a couple of times before he catches himself.

"Oh, fuck, no," he says. "You are not making me come in my fucking trousers again. Do you have any idea how gross that felt?"

"What, when you were begging me for more?" Merlin asks critically. "No, I guess your protests slipped my mind."

"Git."

"Anyway," Merlin continues in an absurdly reasonable tone. "S'not my fault you go off like a rocket."

"Yes it is," Arthur says, and he thinks he surprises them both with how tender the words are when they emerge.

Merlin casts his eyes down coyly for a second before he looks back up, a pleased smile on his face, and he presses a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth, fingers working clumsily at Arthur's belt. Their hands tangle when Arthur reaches for Merlin's own trousers, popping them open easily and sliding his hand inside. Merlin groans, low and heated, his face close enough that his hair brushes Arthur's temple. Arthur can't help shifting, just a little, so that their cheeks are pressed together, so that he can feel the satisfied rush of breath when Merlin gets a hand into his trousers, inside his briefs.

"I – " Arthur says, and then the main door opens and he bites his lip, instinctively pressing a hand to Merlin's mouth. Merlin – little shit – just parts his lips and presses his tongue to Arthur's fingertips.

Arthur wants to protest, but he can't exactly do that, not when there's someone only a few metres away. Merlin's slender fingers wrap around Arthur's wrist and pull his hand down, pressing a soft, careful kiss to his lips. Arthur's heart races with every gentle touch of Merlin's tongue because what if they're overheard? Finally, _finally_ , there's the sound of taps running and the door slams shut again. Arthur almost trembles with relief.

"I want – " he says, then cuts himself off and presses his face to the warm, secret skin of Merlin's throat.

"What?" Merlin asks, and Arthur shakes his head. "Tell me," Merlin says insistently, and he curls his fingers into Arthur's hair again, tugging sharply.

"I – " Fuck no, Arthur can't say it, but he can move back far enough to get to his knees in front of Merlin, and he can watch Merlin's eyes go wide and dark. Suddenly it doesn't seem so bad that Arthur loves this as much as he does. God knows Merlin loves the fact that _he_ loves it, makes no secret of the fact that Arthur on his knees sends his brain into a tailspin.

"Oh," Merlin says, and he strokes a hand through Arthur's hair. "Oh. Yeah, we can do that."

Arthur shoves at Merlin's clothes, shirt up a bit, trousers and pants down just enough to tilt his head to one side and mouth his way up the side of Merlin's dick, up to the head which is already wet, salty and bitter on his tongue.

"Arthur, oh my God," Merlin whispers, just like every time, like he can't quite believe it.

Arthur knows he can't claim to be an expert, because there weren't any boys before Merlin, and the sneaking around doesn't lend itself to much beyond fumbling handjobs or breathless grinding, but Merlin certainly doesn't have any complaints. Arthur takes the head into his mouth and Merlin makes a noise like the air's been punched out of him, one hand caressing Arthur's cheek. He's always touching Arthur's face when they do this, his cheeks and his fluttering eyelids, and then later, always the wet stretch of his lips.

Arthur takes him deeper and he thinks, not for the first time, that one of these days he will get Merlin back to his house, into his bed where they can do this for ages, until Arthur's jaw is aching from it, until Merlin is completely insensible from the pleasure of it. Arthur finds a rhythm and a comfortable depth and starts bobbing his head, the movements slicker each time, the hand he has wrapped around the base of Merlin's cock getting wet. Merlin makes a high, trembling, whining sort of noise and Arthur pulls back to look up at him and shush him. It catches in his throat though, because Merlin has his lip clamped so tight between his teeth that it's bloodless, and his free hand is scrabbling uselessly at the wall behind him. Dizzy with lust at the sight, Arthur moves to start sucking him again, but Merlin's fingers curl around his jaw and he says,

"Wait, wait. Can I – I want – "

"What?" Arthur whispers. Merlin shudders, his whole body, and he swipes his thumb over Arthur's lower lip.

The blood is hot in Arthur's face, his pulse roaring as Merlin's thumb gently increases its pressure, coaxing Arthur's mouth open again. _Oh God, oh God_. It would be easier if Merlin was rough and demanding. This soft pressure, the wordless supplication, they leave Arthur with a way to back out, and he doesn't want to, not really, but he probably will if the crackling tension carries on itching at his skin, making him feel feverish and shaky. Before he can wimp out, before Merlin can say anything, Arthur screws his eyes shut and nods, swiping his tongue over his lower lip and then just waiting.

He doesn't have to wait long before the stiff length pushes into his mouth again. Merlin's careful, keeps it shallow but his breath hitches with every thrust and _God_ , Arthur's head is swimming with it. Normally, he's careful to keep Merlin still, hands hard on his hips, control, control, control. This, though... He can't do much more than tangle his fingers in the bunched fabric of Merlin's trousers, try to pretend those desperate whimpers aren't him.

"Oh, fuck," Merlin whispers, his fingers brushing the hair at Arthur's temple. "God, that's amazing. You have to try this, _fuck_ – "

Arthur makes a strangled gasping noise at the very idea and Merlin pulls back, concern almost overshadowing the naked need in his eyes.

"You okay?"

Arthur nods and resists the urge to wipe a hand across his mouth. His lips are wet, but that can only smooth the way, only make it easier. Merlin touches his hair, and in the same incongruously gentle tone as earlier says, "God, Arthur, your _mouth_ – you're so lovely."

If they weren't already flushed, Arthur's cheeks would surely burn at that. Arthur doesn't have chance to be embarrassed before Merlin is in his mouth again, slow shallow thrusts.

"I want," Merlin says in a plaintive little voice. "A bit more, just a bit, just – "

Holding still and letting Merlin use his mouth has such a strong, strange appeal to it that it takes Arthur a moment to figure out how to move again, pressing forward as Merlin thrusts in, forcing him that bit deeper and it's – oh _fuck_ , it's awkward and it aches and once or twice it makes his eyes water, but it's fucking glorious for all that. They're being far too noisy but Arthur's past caring, lost in the taste, in the solid thickness of the cock filling his mouth, in the noises Merlin's making, in his fingers, curved sweet and gentle around Arthur's jaw.

Of course it can't last forever and Merlin makes these choked _uh, uh_ noises, pushes too deep too fast, once, twice, again, and Arthur's already pulling back when his mouth is flooded, hot and bitter, one errant stripe arcing across his lips. Arthur leans over, spits his mouthful into the toilet bowl and says, "Gahh."

Merlin gives an undignified snort of laughter like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Then he's plucking weakly at Arthur's shirt, trying to pull him to his feet. Arthur complies a bit unsteadily – tiled floors are less than friendly to knees – and all but collapses against Merlin who pushes at him ineffectually and says, "Move, move, let me – "

For all this bold words about not coming in his pants, Arthur just rocks into the sharp, too much, not enough pressure of Merlin's hip.

"Come on, shh now, shh," Merlin's muttering, and Arthur realises only then that his breath is ragged, that it sounds almost like sobbing, that he's fucking _frantic_.

One long fingered hand on his chest grounds him a little, and the other ducks into his pants again. The first touch is so gentle he barely feels it, and he doesn't recognise the wrecked voice that hisses, "Please, Merlin, _please_."

Merlin gets a decent grip then, and Arthur clamps down on every muscle in his body because _damn it_ , he is past the stage of coming from a single touch. (No, really, he _is_.) Merlin's stroking smoothly now, and Arthur realises his cock must have been positively leaking precome because the movements are so wet, so easy. Then Merlin nudges Arthur's head up and with a deliberate, calculating look in his eyes, licks at Arthur's lips. No, at his own come, Arthur realises with a jolt.

"Fucking – _Jesus_ ," Arthur grits out, pressing the words to Merlin's lips and clutching at him, driving his cock through the tight circle of Merlin's fist. Merlin slams a kiss onto his mouth just in time to muffle his shout and cups his hand so that when Arthur comes, hips twitching, breath stuttering, he's prevented from making a mess all over their uniforms.

He hears the rattle as Merlin scrabbles for tissue, the flush of the toilet, but Arthur doesn't even make an effort to move, just drinking in the closeness, the boneless satiety, the _easiness_ of being with Merlin like this. The silence lasts for a long, peaceful moment before a soft hand cups his cheek and Merlin whispers,

"Hey. Okay?"

Arthur nods and, unable to help himself, turns his head and presses a kiss to Merlin's palm. Merlin smiles at him, soft, fond, like he's worked out a secret.

"Here," Merlin says, grabbing another handful of tissue and dabbing at Arthur's mouth. Arthur laughs and takes the tissue from his hand, wiping his mouth and watching from the corner of his eye as Merlin makes an effort to straighten his clothes. Arthur does the same and they duck out of the stall. He watches surreptitiously in the mirrors as they wash their hands, and he can't help noticing the little smile still playing over Merlin's lips.

"I'll pick you up from the bus stop, yeah?" Arthur asks. Merlin nods and smiles wider, pursing his lips in a kiss before he ducks out into the corridor. Arthur watches him go and just waits for a moment, wondering how the hell he's meant to look attentive for the next forty five minutes.


	2. Study Date

"Wow," is Merlin's only comment when Arthur pulls into the driveway.

Arthur glances over at him. "What?"

"Remind me again why you're at our school and not Eton, or Harrow, or something?" Merlin asks, biting his lip.

Arthur pulls the car into the garage and looks at Merlin. "What are you talking about?"

"This is a bloody palace, Arthur," Merlin says slowly.

"Oh. Well, I – yeah, it's nice," Arthur admits. "Hardly a palace."

"Closest I've ever come," Merlin says as he gets out of the car.

"Lies," Arthur says. "We went on the same school trip to Hampton Court, remember?"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Oh, that's _right_. Henry the Eighth's house is _slightly nicer than yours_. Brilliant."

He follows Arthur to the front door and then inside, looking around the foyer with wide eyes. Arthur can't help being amused. His friends love the house because there's a games room and a covered, heated outdoor pool, and a well-stocked liquor cabinet that Uther never bothers to lock. Merlin though, is looking around at the art on the walls (tasteful, expensive, dull) the Persian rug (tasteful, _shockingly_ expensive, downright bloody ugly in Arthur's opinion) as though he's never imagined, let alone seen the like before. It's really quite sweet, the wide eyes and the hunched in body, as though he doesn't want to touch anything in case it breaks on contact and turns out to be worth more than his house.

Arthur shakes his head and hangs his keys on the hook inside the front door and then pulls Merlin in to kiss him. To his surprise Merlin wriggles away, looking scandalised.

"What?"

"What if your dad's home?" he asks in an anxious whisper.

Oh. _That_. "He's never home before ten," Arthur says impatiently. Merlin's face softens at that, and he looks almost sad. Arthur quickly kisses the expression off his face. Merlin's arms snake around his waist, palms pressed flat to the small of his back, guiding him in close. The girls Arthur has kissed before always tasted of mints or lipgloss, but Merlin just tastes like himself, warm and – oh god – already familiar.

"You want a drink or something?" Arthur asks after he feels like he's kissed Merlin thoroughly enough to distract him from whatever opinion he's forming about Arthur's home life.

"Um. Yeah, okay," Merlin says, his fingers tracing over Arthur's belt as he moves back.

Arthur swallows. "Coke alright?"

" 'course."

"Alright," Arthur says with a nod, leading Merlin through to the sitting room next to the kitchen and nudging him towards one of the sofas. When Arthur gets back a few minutes later, Merlin has dragged the coffee table nearer to the sofa and there are textbooks and a notepad spread over the surface.

"You brought books," Arthur says blankly, setting the drinks down on the table.

"Well...yeah," Merlin says, looking as confused as Arthur feels. "For studying?"

"Oh. Right. Of course."

"You did say – "

Arthur flops down onto the sofa next to Merlin and says, "No, yeah, of course. Physics. Brilliant." He feels like a bit of an idiot. Or, actually, a _lot_ of an idiot. But honestly, what healthy seventeen year old boy takes 'hey, come on over and we can... _study_ ' to actually _mean_ 'come on over and we can study'?

He sneaks a glance at Merlin who's wittering on about calculating moles of unknown metals and looking completely unperturbed, as if there's nothing else they could possibly be doing right now.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening?"

Arthur, who has actually been watching Merlin's lips shape the words and consequently not heard more than one in ten of them, aims for bluster at first. "Of course I – "

Merlin pulls his best doubtful face, and Arthur gives up. It's been God knows how long since rushed handjobs in the loo or in Arthur's car became so much more and started fuelling fantasies of Merlin in Arthur's bed instead. Arthur wants to chase the little noises Merlin makes in response to sneaked hands under his shirt, to teeth on the angle of his jaw. What will it _feeltastesound_ like to mouth at soft secret places instead of biting down on cotton-covered skin?

Now he has Merlin in his house, Arthur is feeling decidedly twitchy, and he admits. "Didn't hear a word."

"Arthur, what's – "

"Merlin," is all Arthur says.

It obviously gets his point across because Merlin's eyes widen and he looks suddenly very interested. "Alright," Merlin says. "Clearly I'm an – _mph_!"

Arthur cuts him off with a hard kiss, curling his hand around Merlin's jaw and licking into his mouth, impatient and hungry. Merlin's long fingers tug at Arthur's shirt where it's half-tucked into his trousers, pressing warm against his skin. Arthur splays one hand flat on Merlin's chest and pushes him against the back of the sofa. It's the work of seconds to kneel astride Merlin's lap and hover above him, hands on his face, tipping upward for a better angle. Merlin's hands slide up under the back of Arthur's shirt, fingers cool against his skin.

When Merlin nips at his lip, sucks on his tongue, Arthur climbs out of Merlin's lap and grabs his hands, pulling him up and into another kiss. They stumble a little but Arthur steers them towards the door.

"What – " Merlin starts. "Where – "

"Upstairs," Arthur says, pulling Merlin's shirt out of his trousers. "My room."

Merlin hesitates for a moment but only long enough to give Arthur a blinding smile and pull him into another kiss before grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the staircase.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"First floor, third on the left."

They make it in one piece, but just barely, because Arthur can't stop pulling Merlin in for kiss after kiss, or to steal a sneaky grope. Merlin has no objections though, and when they tumble through Arthur's bedroom door he wastes no time in ripping open the first few buttons on Arthur's shirt and then yanking it over his head. Merlin makes a soft, approving noise, but his hands are hard, eager, pressing Arthur close, and he bites unexpectedly at Arthur's shoulder.

"Merlin – Jesus Christ – "

Merlin laughs against Arthur's neck, presses a kiss to his hot skin. The world tilts and blurs, and the next thing Arthur knows they're dragging at each other's clothes, getting tangled up in one another. Arthur can't take his hands off Merlin and they stumble awkwardly.

"Shit, fuck, let me get – " Merlin says, and he wriggles away from Arthur, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed and kicking his shoes off. In the same breath he grabs Arthur by the belt, fingers working clumsily at the buckle. Arthur stands a bit unsteadily between Merlin's splayed legs, one hand petting clumsily at his hair as Merlin shoves Arthur's trousers down to his hips. Merlin leans forward and drags the flat of his tongue down the line of wiry hair disappearing into Arthur's boxers. And then he just goes _lower_ , licking Arthur's cock through soft cotton, hot and maddening.

"No, oh _fuck_ – you too," Arthur insists a bit incoherently, pushing at Merlin's shoulders. "Get your clothes off."

Merlin nods, patches of colour high on his cheeks, his eyes dark as he fumbles his shirt off. Then Arthur's on him, pushing him back into the pillows. Merlin's laughing as they wriggle out of their trousers, but it dies in his throat when Arthur's hand slides into his pants, cupping his half-hard cock. Merlin groans and tangles his fingers in Arthur's hair, lifting his head to press a wet, filthy kiss to his mouth.

Their hands tangle and knock together as they shove their trousers down and away. With one last kick Arthur's naked, and so is Merlin and _god_... He runs his hand over the sharp angle of Merlin's hip, down over his thigh, grasping, hungry. He pulls clumsily, but Merlin doesn't need any encouragement to wrap his leg around Arthur's waist, body arching, head flung back into the pillows. It feels so unbelievably good, the lean stretch of Merlin's body under his, all hot and hard.

And yeah, Arthur was right. Merlin looks fucking fantastic in Arthur's bed. He sounds amazing too, quickly forgetting himself and giving full voice to groans and cries that they're both normally so careful to muffle. Arthur presses his palm to Merlin's cheek, slides up to cup his head, fingers tangling in his hair while he mouths up the long, pale column of Merlin's neck. Merlin moans, a reedy trembling noise that makes Arthur clench his fingers in Merlin's hair and rock their bodies together harder. Merlin's fingers press hard into Arthur's upper arms, short fingernails pressing in and Arthur grunts in satisfaction, biting along the sharp line of Merlin's jaw.

Merlin tightens his leg around Arthur and breathes something that sounds suspiciously like 'so _fucking_ sexy'. Arthur can't help laughing as he pulls Merlin in for another kiss, because this is just what he imagined, and so much more at the same time.

"What?" Merlin demands, tugging softly on Arthur's hair.

"You – " Arthur says, and then bites his lip. "This is good, right?"

Merlin looks a bit confused, but he cups Arthur's face in his hand and smiles at him fondly. "Good," he says, and it could be a judgement or it could just be an echo. Either way, Merlin's hands roam greedily over Arthur's back, down to his arse, squeezing hard enough to make Arthur huff out a breath against his cheek. He wriggles back a little, putting enough space between them to get a hand on Merlin's dick, stroking once, twice, until Merlin gives a shuddering cry, his fingers curling tight around Arthur's forearm.

"Come on," Arthur urges, because he has to have it all, has to hear every noise Merlin makes, has to see every expression of pleasure that passes over his face. He has no idea what it is about _Merlin_ of all people, but Arthur _needs_ it. He presses a kiss to Merlin's collarbone, the hollow at the base of his throat, licks sweat from his pale skin. He tastes so good, all salty heat, and Arthur knows where else to find that flavour, where it will be so concentrated it will make his head spin.

He has to fight Merlin's grip for as long as it takes for him to work out Arthur's intentions, and then Merlin changes tack entirely, pushing at Arthur's shoulders to urge him lower. Arthur goes more than willingly, mouthing a sloppy trail down the middle of Merlin's chest.

"Arthur, _Arthur_ , come on – " Merlin begs.

Arthur wants to laugh just from simple happiness, but he presses his face to Merlin's thigh instead, hiding it. It's easier, like this, pressing Merlin into the mattress, making him take it at Arthur's pace. Arthur knows that the next time he's on his knees in the sodding loos, or wedged awkwardly into the foot well of his car he'll think of this. When they're forcing themselves to be quiet, he'll have this moment, this memory of Merlin falling apart and clawing at Arthur's shoulders, of Merlin dragging his hands through Arthur's hair, of _fuck, yes, please, please_.

He's almost used to it by now, the heavy weight of Merlin in his mouth, the taste of him bursting on Arthur's tongue. But familiarity doesn't mean it isn't brilliant, doesn't stop him squirming his own hips against the bed in a desperate bid for just the right friction. Arthur glances up and realises Merlin has pushed himself up on his elbows and is watching intently, lower lip caught between his teeth, his breath hitching.

"Come on," Merlin begs. "Stop teasing."

Arthur realises with a start that that's exactly what he's been doing – flickers of his tongue, close-mouthed kisses pressed to wet flesh, fingers running everywhere, all for another one of those sweet noises. He has mercy and takes Merlin into his mouth properly, sucking soft and then hard, and Merlin's hips jerk under his hands. He already likes this – sucking dick, sucking _Merlin's_ dick – more than he's really willing to think about, but he likes it even _more_ with Merlin whining and telling Arthur that it feels "good, so good, fuck _yeah_ , Arthur, like that."

It's pure lust that Arthur's feeling right now, hot and reckless. In a sudden rush, he's desperate, just _desperate_ to fuck, to be closer, to be _inside_. He wonders how that would feel and it shatters his concentration, throws off his rhythm, makes him moan around his mouthful so shakily that Merlin's hands fist in his hair and he demands, "What, what?"

"You – " Arthur says helplessly. "Jesus, I want – "

He can't say it, though. It feels like crossing a line so he just crawls up the length of Merlin's body and kisses him, sloppy and wet. Merlin's hands flutter down over his back and Arthur rolls his hips in a crude imitation of what he really wants. It'll have to be a fantasy for another day though because when he settles between Merlin's splayed legs, dragging his cock over soft skin and rough, wiry hair, Arthur doesn't have it in him to do more than this. He can feel the hot length of Merlin's dick tight against him, the head painting wet trails on his skin. Merlin's hands settle into a firm grip on Arthur's arse, and Arthur huffs against Merlin's mouth.

It's messy and clumsy, and they pant into each other's mouths. Merlin's fingers curl deeper into the meat of Arthur's backside, pulling him to move harder and faster until there's no rhythm to it, Arthur's hips grinding down and down, Merlin breathing encouraging filth into his ear. It can't last much longer and Arthur seizes Merlin's mouth in a rough kiss, nipping at his lips and drinking down the little _unh, unh, unh_ noises he makes.

Arthur's surprised – gratified – when it's Merlin that comes first, with a cry that bounces back off the walls and rings in Arthur's ears. Everything is slick and wet and sticky between them as Arthur shoves down frantically, and he hears himself gasping _fuck_ and _please_ and _ah, fuck, yes_. When he adds to the mess between their bodies, Arthur's pulse pounds in his head and he can't stop himself falling heavily onto Merlin.

"Oof," Merlin says after a moment, prodding at Arthur. "Get off me, you lump."

Arthur murmurs into Merlin's neck, breathes in the taste of him once more and then flops over to one side, sprawling on his back. Merlin's fingers touch the back of his wrist fleetingly, and Arthur guesses that if he had more than a handful of brain cells functioning right now, that might make him think. As it is, he just stretches and settles more comfortably into the sheets.

"Got tissues?" Merlin asks a bit later, his voice low and warm.

"Huh?"

"Need to get cleaned up."

Arthur pushes himself up on one elbow and looks down at Merlin critically. "I sincerely hope you're not thinking about putting your clothes on just yet."

Merlin laughs brightly, and says, "We, um – totally failing our exams."

Arthur kisses him, grins, and says, "Fuck it. It's only physics."


End file.
